Cry To Me
by IKnowHowTheSafetyWorks
Summary: Her favourite film is Dirty Dancing and he knows it. DISCLAIMER(S?): I don't own TWD or Dirty Dancing.


**Cry To Me**

When it was over, it was as if nobody really knew what to do with themselves. The Governor was dead, the war was over and they were free to live happily in their little prison for as long as they pleased. Rick was restless.

Since they didn't have a war to be focusing on, a fight to train for, he had more time to think and finally, Lori's death was dawning on him. But more so, it was dawning on him that he wasn't feeling the way he should anymore. He felt guilt and he felt loss, but he didn't feel heartbreak. That, he mused, was probably because whatever had been between him and Lori had died a long time ago. The guilt he felt, though revolving around the fact that he and Lori had never had the chance to make up properly, was directed at the new feelings that were festering inside his heart. Feelings for someone else.

That night, when everyone slept soundly in their cells, sleep was evading Rick and so he slowly climbed out of his bed and trod his bare-foot way to the canteen. He knew Daryl was on watch, and after him, Tyreese was taking his turn, so Rick was supposed to be getting his first good nights sleep in a while, but it just wasn't possible.

There was very little light streaming in from the windows and so Rick switched on a lamp which sat on the side. It illuminated the room enough that it didn't wake him up completely, but he could see what he was doing. After opening and closing several cupboards, he found what he was looking for. Alcohol. Why not indulge now that the threat had been taken out?

_One of the threats,_ a voice in his head corrected. Rick sighed, walking over to the other side of the room, where a record player sat, with a stack of records. They'd found it when they'd looted Woodbury and it had been one of the few things Rick had thought to bring back with them. He wasn't sure why, but as he rooted through the records and found one that he wanted to play, he was glad they'd found it.

The melodic tones of the first track soothed his nerves and he sat down, pouring the whisky into his glass and letting the searing liquid slide down his throat. He leaned his head back, listening to the music, enjoying the taste, and closed his eyes.

He stayed like that through several songs, thinking back to why he enjoyed listening to it so much. It was her favourite soundtrack, her favourite movie. As he listened, he could almost convince himself that she was there with him. In his mindeye, she was there. He could see her hair, her smile, her dimples. And those eyes. He could hear her laugh, smell her skin, scented with the perfume she simply couldn't leave behind.

Guilt stabbed once more at his heart as he remembered that, of all people, he should be thinking of his wife now, not-

"Rick?" Her voice came from the doorway and his neck snapped forward as he looked at her, standing there in the long shirt she now wore for bed.

"Andrea."

"Dirty dancing." She smiled, indicating the record player with her hand. As she pointed towards the machine, Rick noticed the way the sleeve of the shirt very nearly overlapped her hands and, for some reason, he found that adorable.

"Your favourite." He stated, standing up as she neared him. She took a seat on the chair next to him and he placed a second glass in front of her, pouring her a drink. She looked at him in wonder for a moment. "One night we were talking about things we missed and, along with your vibrator," She laughed and he smirked, coughing out a laugh as they both blushed, "You said you missed your favourite movie, Dirty Dancing."

"You remembered." It wasn't a question, but something in her face said she was impressed and maybe a little touched that he'd bothered to remember something that would have seemed like such a pointless detail to everyone else, but meant something to her. It meant even more because the night she'd told them was the night Amy had been bitten. He shrugged and they lapsed into silence.

Rick found his eyes being constantly drawn to her legs, which were exposed due to her minimal attire. It was back to August and the sun beat down on them mercilessly. Even at night, even in the stone walls of the prison, temperatures were sky high and they'd all taken to sleeping in next to nothing. Her legs were toned and tanned from where she'd taken to wearing shorts, in place of her combat pants. He transferred his gaze to her face and found her already looking at him through long, dark lashes.

Her hair had been let loose in her sleep and curled, wildly, around her head. It framed her pale face like a halo and Rick saw a smile in her eyes as she looked at him.

"So, how come its your favourite film?" Rick asked, feeling the mood of the room change subtly with that look. He immediately felt the need to fill their silence with words.

"I don't know," She shrugged, "I've just always loved it. I mean, doesn't everyone?"

"I guess." Rick agreed.

The silence between them stretched out for longer this time, and, once again, Rick found his eyes drawn to her. She made his palms sweat, made his throat dry. She did things to him that Lori never had; things he'd not experienced since high school. She made him feel like just a boy again, as oppose to a grown man, and Rick wasn't sure about how he felt about that.

He noticed the change in her expression. It went from relaxed and a little vacant too awkward and tense, as if she was internally scolding herself for something. Rick knew her well enough to recognize the subtle changes in her expression; he'd been watching her like a hawk ever since she'd come back from Woodbury, terrified he would lose her again, making sure she was real, so he knew when something was wrong with her.

"What are you thinking?" He asked, softly, and she sighed as she looked at him.

"That I'm really sorry about Lori," He turned his head away from her but she kept talking, "I know she and I didn't always see eye-to-eye, but we did get on well at times, she came to talk to me when I'd just lost Amy and...and I had nothing personal against her; I'm really sorry about what happened to her, and I'm sorry about..."

She paused and, though he wanted to let it pass, he couldn't just let her sentence hang open in midair so he looked back at her and raised his eyebrows. She sighed again, a sigh which heaved her shoulders. When she spoke again, it was in a pained whisper.

"I'm sorry about what she and Shane did to you." That was like a dagger to the heart, but the softness, the sweetness of her expression, somehow made it better, "Of all people in the world, you didn't deserve that, Rick. You're one of the good ones."

She reached out a hand to twine their fingers together. It was supposed to be a comforting gesture, he knew, but as he looked from their hands to her face and could see how innocently she meant it, he couldn't help but notice how, once again, the atmosphere changed. He noticed how beautiful she was and how comforted her presence made him. She was obviously pretty comfortable with him, too, or she'd be self conscious about walking around in just the shirt. She smiled and, smiling back, he got to his feet.

"What?" She asked, as he pulled her to her feet with him.

"The song."

She paused for a moment, listening, before he saw a smile light up her face. She looked at him, knowingly, and he shrugged. It was her favourite, she'd mentioned that the night of the campfire, too.

_When your baby leaves you all alone_  
_And nobody call you on the phone_  
_Don't you feel like crying_

They swayed from side to side, their hands still entwined. Andreas other hand rested on Ricks chest over his heart while his rested lightly on her hip.

_C'mon baby, cry to me_

Andrea looked up at Rick, their eyes locking, and her breath hitched at what she saw in them. This change in the atmosphere, she knew, was permanent. The music seemed to grow louder as they shared a long, knowing look. Andrea smiled slightly as Ricks hand moved from her hip around to the small of her back, pulling her closer, and her own hand slid from his chest up around his neck, closing what little distance was between them.

_When you're all alone in your lonely room_  
_And there's nothing but the smell of her perfume_  
_Doncha feel like crying_  
_Doncha feel like crying like crying like crying_

In a moment of spontaneity, and as a change from their swaying, Ricks hand moved from hers, to her back, and he dipped her to their floor, her neck leaning back, elegantly, telling him that she wasn't exactly an amateur where dancing was concerned. He knew she'd been a cheerleader in high school; it was a fact she'd told him once, and not one she was particularly proud of. His eyes followed the curve of her jaw and onto her neck and he couldn't help but press his lips to the marble of her skin. She inhaled sharply and his eyes closed, relishing in the sound, before his senses came back to him and he stepped away from her, starting to back away to the door.

"I'm sorry, I'm overstepping-" He said, and she shook her head as he turned his back on her, heading out of the room. "I just can't, Andrea, I can't lay all my baggage on you..you're such an amazing person, you're beautiful and you're not afraid of anything-"

"What?" She gaped at him, amazed, "I'm afraid of everything! I'm afraid of the things I see, of things I've done! Of who I am! But most of all..." Her voice dropped, as did her eyes, "I'm scared of you walking out of this room and of us both ignoring what we feel, for the rest of our lives, because we've both got emotional issues because of our past relationships."

He paused, his back still to her, and felt her approach him from behind. Her hands slid around his chest, hugging him from behind, as she waited for his response. She wasn't crying, he could tell, but he knew by her breathing that she wasn't too far off. His hands came up to where hers rested on his chest and he held them, bringing one to his lips and kissing her hand.

She was right, he mused as he turned around to kiss her, before all thought flew from his mind, they both did have unresolved issues with ex's, but both of those people were dead now, so those issues weren't going to be resolved and they had the choice; to dwell or to move on.

As Rick captured her lips with his own, he couldn't think about anything but her, and how perfectly she fit against his body, how perfectly her hand fit in his and how perfectly they fit into eachothers lives.

If the apocalypse had happened so he could meet Andrea, he was happy it had.


End file.
